The riverbank
Stones dry now when
They should be damp
It’s been eight weeks of lockdown
And many hours of heat
Deer prints
Otter
Gull
Child
Dog
And human touch of moved rock
Sandy between whitening boulders
Each time we go down there
To the riverbank
More stones have been
Stacked and placed
By human hands
Even my altar has been made
Into a table leg
A more practical use
Than ritual
Toadlings
Their pool a month too small
Scum floats upon the surface
They squirm
Do they feel how little time they have?
We stack and stack
The quiet click of stone
Upon stone
The only sound
Quiet meditation
Feel the still point
And dissolve into balance
A city!
A hospital
An altar- much more elaborate than Teisa’s
Where I would place a single flower
Or leaf for gratitude
To the flow and power of the river
Stones upon stones
Stacked for the beauty of the process
Like cups pecked into rock
It is the act
The doing that counts
Angel wings
Caught in time
Once so long ago
An angel laid down
And was turned to stone
Nwyfre 